


Love Across the Hall.

by Fandom_Trashh



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Hope It's Cute, Human Vision (Marvel), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Modern Era, Neighbors, Talented Wanda Maximoff, i don't know why i did this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 03:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14632773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Trashh/pseuds/Fandom_Trashh
Summary: Wanda Maximoff is a young, talented chef freshly moved to New York. It seems, despite her aspirations, life continues to throw things her way. In between a challenging career and a busy life, the woman finds no time for herself. Enter Vision. The new officially mysterious Man Across The Hall who sees to take an interest in Wanda in the oddest of ways.I don't know what this actually is. But it's gonna be lit.





	Love Across the Hall.

**Author's Note:**

> No prologue on this one, jumping right in!
> 
> Please check the end for notes, thank you!

 

"I...I don't understand." 

 

Wide hues moved between the two people that Wanda sat in front of. Soft brows were furrowed, confusion a clear mask on her face. 

 

'Well, you see, you have been...phenomenal. Really, you have.' 

 

The look on the blonde woman--Clara, Carol, Karen, something bland--'s face said everything Wanda had feared it was.

 

"So why are you firing me, then?"

 

The man that was sat behind Clara-Carol-Karen seemed to shift in his seat a bit. List.  _He_ was the one she was most familiar with. He had taken her from some small place on Brighton Beach and recruited her to Hydra. A high class, yet highly problematic, place in Manhattan. It had been an amazing break, one that had allowed her to taken advantage of what she wanted to do.

 

But it had been  _nothing_ but trouble

 

No one wanted to listen to a  _female_  sous-chef. Her opinion was that of a food runner, in their minds. No room for change or small alterations. Same dreadful menu. All her ideas were tossed aside and called ridiculous. But she persisted. Stayed and worked and worked and  _worked_ in an attempt to just get someone to listen.

 

And now, here they were.

 

'It's just...we've had so many things said and you know how this place is. We have a high standard.' 

 

Soft, sweaty dampened curls were pushed back. Wanda went from wringing the toque in her hands to straightening up a bit.

 

"Meaning Rumlow, or one of his little...group friends told you I've been saying things."

 

Her accent hinted that the words 'group friends' was a bit awkward for her. Maybe even incorrect, probably incorrect, but it didn't negate the truth.

 

And from the way Clara-Carol-Karen shifted, Wanda knew she was right.

 

A soft  _huff_ came from the brunette as she pulled the bandana from her head.

 

"They sit there talking  _all day_ about the food runners and about me and about every woman in that kitchen, but they are not the ones being fired?  _I_ am trying to make it clear that I earned my position as sous-chef. No one in there respects that!" 

 

Clara-Carol-Karen and List both seemed to shift and look uncomfortable as the young woman went off. The sound of a shuffling kitchen seemed to dull the slightest as she did so. As if the people outside were trying to listen rather than prep for dinner service.

 

'Listen, Wanda.'

 

Her glare was turned to List, then, who seemed to clam up for a moment.

 

'I'm very sorry.  _We're_ very sorry, but these are coming from Mister Pierce himself.'  
  
'No matter what happens, you'll always be welcomed back as a customer.' Clara-Carol-Karen offered.

 

Wanda got to her feet after a moment, removing the apron from around her waist. The entire ensemble, hat an bandana included, was tossed onto the floor. 

 

"As a customer? I didn't come here to be a customer, I came here to be a cook."

 

Her steps were sure as she walked herself out of the office and through the kitchen. A few watched in silence as she gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder while collecting her coat. 

 

"Hey, better luck next time, huh, sweetheart?" 

 

Wanda glanced back into the open kitchen door to find Brock Rumlow standing there with his usual over confident swagger.

 

"Idi k chertu, Rumlou." The words were spat at the man with a venom that, if she had been a snake, could kill.

 

"What did she just say?" Brock glanced at the few other cooks around here.  
"Anybody got any idea what the hell she just said?"

 

\------ 

 

Junk.

Bill.

Junk.

Junk.

Random card.

 

The mail was softly shuffled as Wanda moved up the stairs of her apartment building. The junk mail was tossed into a nearby trashcan before the young woman continued on up the stairs.  The repetitive sound of her feet climbing over and over seemed to offer the perfect backing to her million thoughts.

 

What next? How did she tell Pietro? Where would she find another job?  _How_ was she going to find as good a job? What about her apartment?

 

All her questions seemed to come to a halt as she bumped into someone. 

 

Her hand went out to grab the rail and found that she had run into--a box? A very tall box. With long legs. Long legs with jeans and..nice leather shoes.

 

_'I am so terribly sorry. Are you alright?'_

 

Green eyes glanced up and seemed to meet blue ones. Ones she didn't recognize. Not that she had exactly been social with anyone on this floor. 

 

The box was sat aside and a blonde man seemed to emerge from it. Tall, blonde, and dressed in a sweater that looked just as nice as his shoes.

 

"Are you alright? I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

 

Wanda noticed his eyes flitting over her arms and such, looking for any signs of pain.

 

"I'm fine..."

 Her response was short as she fixed the bag on her shoulder.

"Make sure you watch where you're going, next time."

 

The brunette moved past him with a soft exhale. She was thoroughly exhausted by the day. The last thing she needed was to be questioned and subsequently cornered by some new neighbor.  _Another_ new neighbor. People seemed to either be always moving in or moving out. The door of her apartment was opened and shut, and locked, easily. The man-in-the-hall's voice seemed to fade a bit. Had he been speaking? She hadn't actually noticed. She was far too eager to get inside. To get away from the day. Her coat and bag were hung with care before Wanda simply stood there for a moment in dead silence.

 

Her feet stomped up and down, her hands slapped at the wall next to where her things hung, suppressed noises came from between her teeth. Anger. Frustration. Upset. It was all she could do not to actually, properly  _scream_. If she did that, there was no doubt she would be hearing from the woman down the hall with an annoying yappy dog. Amazing how everything could disgruntle a woman with a dog like that. 

 

Her breathing was uneven by the time she was done with her small fit. Tears stained her cheeks and were quickly wiped away before she made her way to the kitchen.

 

She would figure this out.  
She had to.

**Author's Note:**

> Idi k chertu, Rumlou - Go to Hell, Rumlow.
> 
> So, yes, this is a new fic! It seems I am f i n a l l y getting things on track, which means I have so much new writing muse! Wednesdays and Thursdays will be drop days for all fics, hopefully starting this upcoming week.


End file.
